Luyện nghe bài hát Family Reunion

[Intro - BH - talking]
Uh oh!
It's that again
It's too long
family reunion
We got to school y'all to the (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)
You know what talk to 'em (HUH?)
go (IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?)

[Joe Budden - behind Killa BH]
Uh
Mic check, mic
Check, one two, one two

[DJ On Point -
Y'all already know what time it is (y'all already know time it is)
Family (family reunion)
Ransom (Ransom), Hitchcock (Hitchcock), Fab (Fab), go

[Joe - talking behind DJ On Point]
The is out niggaz, uh
Get 'em boy

[Verse 1 -
Ain't tryin to rap or play me
I'll be at crib with a couple hammers and a black old AV
Black gonna pay me, still get the smack off
I'm touchin more diesel than Shaq old lady
Boy, you did it, I done it, I get it, I
The shit that I come separate a rib from a stomach
I'm the boss, when I it, you love it
Matter fact, I'm a Viking, I need a whole village to
Yeah, the nigga is here, the is scared
You got the throne? Then I think I need to sit in chair
We really get physical here
And the sky's the limit nigga, I put your whole in the air
Baby, so quit playin, 'fore the clips 'em
And have his MIA Nick Saban
His whole shit caved in, my whole clique
Hard nigga, my whole shit pavement
You can't spit if you in the ground
In the woods, where head'll be found
And good that you gettin it now, in the precinct confessin it now
I can't with the rest of you clowns, faggot

[Verse 2 -
High in the before the storm
Park, the Audubon
Slang rock on the block that the water on
I be more than gone, run and get your order
Next time I a song, gon' put my daughter on
Cause she than most niggaz
I tote triggers, for you broke niggaz and gold with no figures
That why I the heater, for all you non-believers
I'm on your ass like white on Rice, I'm
Better con the preacher, you tryin to get on a
get your casket bastard (why?), I'm gon' eat ya
We ain't in the weight class
fake ass, couldn't stop a nigga with brake pads
I'm way past, that you ever did
I'm kid and we never sweat a bid
easy to get a cig
In the bing, I'm like Ving Rhames, I pain
I 'caine off the wing like I'm King James
doubtin who?
When I spit the whole lead, they be Code Red, like Mountain Dew
'Fore I count to two, you could get back blown (OH!)
Cause your chemic's out of minutes like a (NIGGA!)
Get back homes, I'm on my shit
I don't mingle, I'm Pringles, stackin my chips
Clappin my fifth, you the 'test me
out with a "Blade" to get Wesley sniped
So the cops could me, right? It's not happenin
You ain't gonna get on, so stop rappin
(H20) comin this summer, so askin
All heat like Wall Street, stock crashin
Now the Feds want to his rights
have mercy, Jesus Christ, I got passion
I'm and all my niggaz gettin this 'feti
We in the Chevy and to pop tags and (what? OH!)

[Chorus - Joe - w/ ad libs]
So you tryin to do little niggaz (niggaz), I already done (done)
And since you want to live by it nigga (nigga), then die by the gun (gun)
See whatever you tryin to do little nigga, already done (done)
So how the fuck you gon' win little (nigga), I've already won (won)

[Verse 3 -
we always do it, d-d-damn
Yes (yes), go (yes), uh huh
Aiyyo, money is the root of all I thought
But I'm broke is usually when I have the evilest thoughts
That's the arms come out, like sleeves when it's short
With more bullets than your favorite wide receiver has
And that Randy Mossberg, ya Steve & Wesson ya
shoes pop up like Instant Messenger
You've got mail, naw nigga you got
And my Mac, you can't use for
got that, confused that will lie flat
And my gat is on leg like tat
I that nigga, who you
Some broke niggaz who tryin to get some views
So you want a point blank, boy you're too close
Bail's in pocket, is Lawyer Lou Los
I'm pretty sure more hotties me in that four door ridey
Double pipes like a off shotty, nigga

(IS THIS YOU WANT?)

4 - Joe Budden]
Look, I sickly, ridin, bumpin old Biggie
Roll with me or weight, Nicole Richie
Fuck plat, if I don't reach diamond
I treat a nigga's face like the old game
out why men try us
Cause we OD on rims and then tires, for we Len Bias
All it takes is a
He brave, he a punk
I'll put his in boxes, meet the Brady Bunch
How feel yourselves?
Should kill yourselves, us Cowboys don't need you, you Parcells
And you ain't got to empty pockets when the K's out
Whatever you is mine, you my PayPal
See I get how this guy is a threat
I his life inept for a pie to the neck
Ride or die, if you both nigga, to the death
I acappella the whole side of his chest
Not retirin, still got that pendin
to pop the hood and see the engine missin
Double barrelled shotgun, your men get missin
She got pretty brown eyes and she in mint
Oh the cig in the car, you en moi
Take the ratchet go home and just Chris
I tell a bird it is, you promise the broad
I one line her (you), you Isiah the broad
I could send a clique cartridge at a target
And catch a ROR on some 6 charges (naw)
Naw, I'll put this thing
I don't even need a whole hairdo to flip 'em, all it is one finger wave
in the bing for days, show you how I'm real
Come home to the truck the Optimus Prime grill
Handed out crack, got the scene off
They not sleepin on 'em, the fiends is off
For real, tell me how you a and you Superman (nigga)
I just seen you in the club the Superman (nigga)
A of clowns homes
All I need in this world is the pound chrome, Huxtable brown
Major paper (I mean), by the layers
If dudes is live, I'm the Creative Player
They callin 'em when they so so hot
Something's wrong that picture, must be Photoshop
I promote violence, but when sparkin the flame - BLAM
Arms wavin like the Carlton Banks dance
When them go pop, it move whole blocks
Come around with your dog and get shot
These MC's is lame, I try to be an MC with
niggaz is MC Brains
Bein nice, rappers is far bein nice
I'm on the rooftop recordin, and is bein sniped
It's

[Chorus - w/ ad

[Outro - DJ On - talking - w/ Killa BH ad libs in background]
to the whole BSC (whole BSC)
Shout to my nigga Dru
SlimeBugz, DJ
The Don (The Don), Dre (Dre Bless)
DJ Dru (DJ Baby Dru)
My Freeze